by Claire Adams
A few hours later, I pulled into a gas station and parked my bike outside of a meager diner attached to the gas station. I dismounted and stretched my limbs. After riding for almost three hours straight, my wrists and back were a little stiff. An old man dressed in grimy dungarees and a tattered baseball cap stared at me as he chewed on a stalk of long grass. I was out in the sticks, alright. Mountains stretched to the verge of the horizon and old forests stood sentry at the edges of the road.
It was picturesque, to say the least. I reached into my pocket for my phone, intending to take some pictures of the scenery and send them to Brooke who would surely be awake and on her way to class. That's when my heart stopped.
My phone was gone.
In a panic, I patted all of my pockets thinking maybe I'd put it in a different one.
I hadn't. I always kept it in the left front pocket of my jeans.
And then I looked at the jeans I was wearing – the same pair from the previous night – and I cursed myself for my stupidity. These were the jeans that my phone always fell out of when I was on my bike. The design of the pockets meant the phone sat at an angle when I was on the motorcycle which, unfortunately for me, was the perfect slant for it to work its way out of the pocket while I was riding.
It had happened twice before but, luckily, I had noticed the phone falling out and been able to retrieve it. For that reason, I’d always tried to avoid wearing this particular pair of jeans when riding. However, in my haste and early morning grogginess, I had kept them on. And now, my phone had fallen out, possibly a hundred miles back or something. It was gone for sure, probably smashed to bits under the wheels of cars and trucks.
I shook my head and cursed. Not that there was anything I could do about it. I'd just have to wait until I got back to talk to Brooke. I headed into the diner for some coffee and a snack, losing my phone just one more thing to add to my feelings of uncertainty about the twenty-four hours ahead of me. Despite my worries about Dad, Brooke was occupying my thoughts, as well. In fact, I found myself replaying the previous night over and over in my head as I drove the final three hours. Thankfully, when I arrived, hanging out with him kept my mind off of her for a bit.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Brooke
I rolled over and brought my hand down on my alarm. My head was still a little foggy. I definitely wasn't used to drinking that much wine. I rubbed my eyes and tried to make sense of the partial memory of Emerson kissing me and saying he had to leave while it was still dark at five o'clock in the morning. And then all the memories of what had happened the night before came flooding back.
Emerson and me.
His hands, all over me. The warmth of his mouth on mine. Our bodies pressed together, writhing, sweating, moaning with the intensity of it all.
A smile grew on my lips and my cheeks warmed at the thought of it. I couldn't wait for it to happen again.
I lingered in bed, replaying the events that had led up to the best sex I’d ever had. While I did, it hit me.
I was ready. I was finally ready to move on. Everything that had happened with Andrew had finally been consigned to the past.
I smiled. Just knowing I had moved on made me happier than anything I could think of with the exception of last night. It was going to be a long two days.
I was eager to see Emerson. In fact, I was positively craving his presence. I had no idea what had come over me. And as selfish as it was to want him with me knowing how serious the situation with his father was, I still wished he hadn’t left.
That didn’t mean we couldn’t at least talk, though. I checked the time and picked up my phone. I'd need to get ready for class. I dialed his number anyway. But it went straight to voicemail. I didn't bother leaving him a message. Instead, I shot him a text message and then put my phone in my bag as I headed to the bathroom to get ready for the day. I figured he was probably on the road and he'd see the message and reply when he stopped.
Still, when I came out of the bathroom, I checked my phone to check if he'd replied. I shook my head at my behavior and looked myself in the mirror.
“Stop it, Brooke. Just because the sex was amazing doesn’t mean you should stalk the guy. You know better.” I nodded at myself as if I understood and walked away. After last night, I needed food.
***
It was almost six o'clock in the evening when I finally got home. I was tired, cranky, more than a little hungry, and there still had been no word from Emerson. At first, I'd chalked it up to him being on the road. It’s hard enough to drive a car and text, it was impossible to do that on a motorcycle and I didn’t expect or want him to. But he surely had to have reached his destination by that time and would have seen the message waiting for him on his phone. I had tried calling a couple more times, but it always went straight to voicemail.
In my head, I started going through all the possible reasons he wasn’t answering or texting back. Perhaps he was feeling too emotional to talk to anyone, especially considering how worried he had been about the surgery scheduled for the following day. Maybe he’d been in an accident. Maybe his battery had died and he just hadn’t gotten around to charging it.
Then, there was the possibility he could have been ignoring me deliberately.
That thought sent flushes of uncomfortable heat prickling along my skin. What if my initial suspicions about him had been right all along? What if he'd been acting like a caring, decent guy just so he could get me into bed?
Of course, the way he had made love to me had been entirely unlike the way a self-centered, egotistical player would have done it. Or, at least, I didn’t think that would be the case. Not that I had a lot of experience with the sort. It was, however, getting harder and harder to keep the doubts from slipping in. Then, naturally, the memories of what Andrew had done to me starting clawing their way back into my mind.
I plopped down on the couch, heat bubbling like acid through me. What was going on? Could my worst fears about this situation really be the reality of it?
I picked up the phone and tried to dial one more time.
Straight to voicemail, yet again.
I was just about to lose it when Leslie walked in the front door. She knew I'd been getting closer to Emerson and that he'd made me dinner the previous night. What she didn't know was that he had stayed the night. I debated briefly whether I should tell her about it or not. I decided not to. Not yet. Not until I had a better idea of what was going on.
“Hey, Bee,” she said as she walked into the living room. “How was your day?”
“Uh, it was a day,” I replied.
She stared at me with her head tilted for a few moments.
“Something’s not right with you. What's the matter?” she asked.
“Um, I've just got a headache,” I lied. “I've been going all day and don't think I had enough water to drink.”
“Oh, well I think there's Gatorade in the fridge. You should have some. Electrolytes will help you rehydrate.”
“Yeah, good idea,” I replied. “What about you? How was your day?” I added quickly, trying to shift her attention away from me.
“Oh, probably like yours,” she said with a sigh. “A million things to get done and not nearly enough time to do 'em all. And, this week is gonna be hell, too. I've got so many tests, I think my head's gonna explode. Seriously, I'm about to go crazy. I'm gonna have to spend every damn night this week studying late. And if that jerk next door makes a single peep, I swear I'm gonna rip his steroid-filled head off.”
I chuckled nervously. “Let's hope he doesn't,” I said.
“Maybe you should tell Emerson that. You know, to pass the message on to his not-so-considerate buddy. Ya know, so I don't have to go over there and tear things up when that fool makes a racket.”
“I can't,” I announced. Immediately, I felt as if I'd said too much.
“Huh? Why not?”
“He's away until tomorrow night. He had to go see his dad. He’s having some pretty major surge
ry tomorrow.”
“Oh, wow, alright. Well, I hope his dad ends up being okay.”
“Yeah, me, too.”
“Well, like I said, lots of studying to get done. Drink some Gatorade to rehydrate; you look a little pale. Then, hopefully, your headache will go away. And eat something.”
“Yes, Mom,” I teased.
Leslie smiled. “I'll be in my room with my head buried in these books for the rest of the night if you need me.”
“Alright. Good luck.”
I watched her until she closed her door, then I took out my phone to check it one last time. Still no word from Emerson. I felt like an idiot. There was nothing I could do about the situation, so I curled up on the sofa and turned on the TV. There was no point in trying to concentrate on studying. All I could do for the moment was simply distract myself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Emerson
I couldn’t help but remember the last time I’d paced the floor of a hospital waiting room. My grandmother had gone in for heart surgery. That was almost as nerve-wracking as waiting for the doctor to come out and give us some news about Dad’s procedure. Anne tried to keep my mind off it by asking about how school was going and other random questions. I figured it was as much for her own sanity as it was for mine, so I finally took a seat next to her and played along with her twenty questions.
When the doctor finally entered the private waiting area, he assured us that the surgery had been successful and everything had gone exactly how they had hoped it would. It was reassuring to hear my dad would make a full recovery and be back to one hundred percent health in a matter of weeks. I couldn't wait to tell Brooke. I only hoped she didn’t try to text or call while I was gone and think I was ignoring her, especially after what had happened between us Sunday night.
I didn’t stick around as long as I would have liked after Dad’s surgery. I’d already missed two days of classes, and I didn’t need to miss a third. So, after he’d come out of his drug-induced stupor and before they could settle him back into another one, I talked to him for a few minutes and hit the road once his second round of pain meds kicked in.
It was around midnight when I got back into town. As I turned the last corner onto the road in front of my apartment building, flashing blue lights caught my attention. There were two police cars parked in front. We didn't see many cops in our area, so I hoped nothing bad had happened.
I pulled up to the curb and parked my bike, apprehensive and a little worried as I stretched my back. I walked up into the building, intending to drop off my backpack at my place and then see if Brooke was awake so that I could tell her the good news – and explain that the reason I hadn't been able to message her for two days was that my phone had fallen out somewhere on the road.
I opened the front door of my place and stepped in, dropping my bag as I did – and I immediately froze. There were four cops standing in our living room, and Chris was sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands. Ciara and a few of her friends were standing around looking guilty, as well.
One of the cops shone his flashlight in my face.
“Well, well, well, you must be Emerson. Am I right?” he asked.
“Uh, yes sir, that's me,” I replied uneasily.
“At least this one has some manners,” he said as he glanced at one of the other officers in the room. “You and your roommate here have a regular ol' liquor store up in this apartment, don't ya?”
My blood ran cold. “Um, uh, I…” I stammered, not knowing what to say.
“I hope you're not going to try tell me all this alcohol in here 'isn't yours' or that you're 'keeping it for a friend' or some bullshit story like that. We hear that all the time, kid, so don't waste our time. Now, I'm gonna ask you this once, and you're gonna tell me the truth. Remember, it's a felony to lie to an officer of the law. Are you twenty-one years of age or older?”
My mouth went dry; I could hardly even talk to answer.
“Um…”
“Well, son? Are you or are you not?”
“I'm not, sir.”
“Let me see your driver's license.”
I pulled my wallet from my back pocket, fumbled around in it with trembling fingers and pulled out my driver's license, which I handed to the cop. He took it, looked it over and nodded as he handed it back to me. Another man in uniform came out of the kitchen holding a camera. He tapped on the side of the camera as he spoke.
“Alright, boys, I've got all the evidence we need right here.”
Obviously, he'd just taken pictures of our stash of beer and liquor. I felt like throwing up.
The cop who had spoken to me before shook his head.
“You kids are in a lot of trouble. A lot. We take this kind of thing serious. Real serious.”
“What? I haven’t even been here for two days,” I muttered, looking at Chris in confusion.
“Well, you’re here now, son,” one of the officers said.
My body felt numb. It was almost as if I were watching it all happen to me from outside my body. Everything felt completely surreal. “Uh…what's gonna happen to us?” I asked.
“You and your buddy Chris here are gonna come down to the station with us. We're gonna charge you with possession of alcohol, and if you know what's best for you, you'll do what we say without protesting. Something tells me you'll cooperate with us. Won't you?”
I nodded. “Y-yes, sir.”
“Good. You seem like a respectful young man, so we won't need to cuff you, right? You ain't gonna try nothing stupid like running, are ya?”
“No, sir. We'll cooperate,” I added
“That's what I like to hear. Kowalksky, you and Jackson take the ladies down to the station and book 'em, and I'll take these two down in my car.”
The officer with the camera nodded. “Got it. See you at the station.”
A female officer led the crying Ciara and two other girls out. The other officer scowled at Chris and myself.
“Alright,” he said to us, “come with me.”
We walked downstairs behind him in stunned silence as his partner followed behind us. Once we got into the back of the police car, anger shot through me with a sudden fury. I glared at Chris who looked away, unable to meet my stare.
“What the hell happened, Chris?!” I said angrily.
“Your little lab partner next door called the cops. That’s what happened.”
“You don’t know who called the cops, Chris.”
“Yeah. I do. I saw her roomie leaving with an armful of books when Ciara and I were getting back from our pizza run. That means your little friend was the only one home.”
“Well, why were you being so loud? I’ve warned you and warned you,” I argued.
“We were just playing some music, just having a little party, bro, just-”
“Just nothing! You idiot! What the hell, man? What the hell?! I told you to stop doing that, I told you!”
“How was I supposed to know those fucking bitches next door would call the cops?”
“Because I told you! Melissa even warned us about it! Damn it, dude, I told you that shit!”
“Well, it's not my fault they're a pair of lame, stuck-up, goody two-shoe types who can't stand having a good time.”
In that moment, I wanted to punch Chris square in the eye. It was only with the barest strands of restraint that I managed to hold myself back from doing just that.
“You’re an idiot and it’s not their fault. It’s your fault. Shit, can't you just take responsibility for something for once in your life?! Jesus, Chris, I already told you someone was gonna call the cops if you didn't stop partying! And, what do you go and do? Despite all the warnings, you keep on!”
“Whatever,” he mumbled. “Some friend you are.”
“Me?! Dude, you just got me busted for something I didn’t even do! Do you have any idea what’s going to happen when my-” I paused mid-sentence and simply stopped. “Never mind.” I knew if I kept on, I would say something rea
lly hurtful. What happened had happened and being pissed about it couldn't change it. All that was left was to deal with the consequences.
I glared back up at the door to our apartment, then to the one next to it. Had it really been Brooke that had called the cops? Maybe she had done it out of anger. Maybe she thought I'd been deliberately ignoring her these past two days. She had no way of knowing my phone had been lost. Maybe she thought I'd just slept with her and then dropped her — probably confirming all the reasons she'd most likely told herself not to drop those walls around her to begin with. I couldn’t imagine what kind of guy she thought I was at the moment.
Anger flared up inside me again, only not at Chris. How could she? She had no right to jump to her conclusions. She could have just waited for me to get back, so I could have at least explained to her about the situation with my phone. She had no right to judge me like that! It wasn't fair and it was vindictive as hell. Especially when she knew exactly what would happen when the cops came to my place and found so much alcohol, or any alcohol for that matter.
I cradled my head in my hands.
Maybe, all this time, I had been wrong about her.
Dead wrong.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Brooke
The last class of the day was actually chemistry lab — the time I'd usually spend with Emerson. While I'd been doing my best all day to avoid thinking about him, seeing as I'd had absolutely no response whatsoever from him, it was impossible to not think about him once the time rolled around that he would have normally been helping me with practicals.
I couldn’t understand why he still had not replied. Couldn't he have, at least, told me how his dad's surgery had gone? Couldn't he have, at least, had the decency to acknowledge receipt of my messages?